


Fallen Hero

by LazarusII



Series: Tron One-Shots [1]
Category: Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Uprising
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, BAMF Rinzler, Clu is Evil, Gaming Grid, Gen, Paige Joins the Revolution, Post-Tron Uprising, Revolution, Sad, Tron City
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24340930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazarusII/pseuds/LazarusII
Summary: After Clu’s siege of Argon, the revolution managed to limp forwards…And then Tron disappeared.Beck and Paige find themselves in the Grid’s capital after an anonymous tip summons them to the large gaming grid. There, they are confronted by the revolution’s worst fear.In the beginning, many cycles ago, a part of Beck had resented the burden of his alter-ego. He’d held the title of “the Renegade” reluctantly and with little understanding of what it meant--or  would soon mean--to the programs of Argon.Now, he could only remember that time with longing. He desperately wanted to return to those days…To turn back time and live once more in ignorance, free of the burdens of war.Argon was in ruins, its programs scattered and wandering the Outlands, derezzed, or living as refugees. They had been the collateral damage, the fallout of the chaos of his own creation.
Relationships: Beck & Paige (Tron), Beck & Tron (Tron)
Series: Tron One-Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757335
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	Fallen Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> I hope everyone is staying safe.  
> To start out, I really am not the most well-versed in Tron-lingo, esp. when it comes to time. I followed this [Wiki Page](https://tron.fandom.com/wiki/Cycle). (It took me _forever_ to figure out the spelling for "tetromino"). Also this work has _not_ been beta-read, so please be kind to me. 
> 
> This takes place, as the tags indicate, in a post-Uprising setting...but where things to a bit badly for everyone. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

The crowd was wild, a vast sea of orange and blue figures pumping their fists into the air. Occupation soldiers and civilians alike cheered, attention locked on the game’s combatants, their combined voices twisted into savage roar that cried for deresolution and death.

Above them, rain fell from pitch-black clouds, bathing the area in a fine mist. Thunder crackled in the distance ominously, the occasional flicker of lightning throwing the high towers of Tron City into harsh relief. 

Beck watched the combatants in silence, his sensors nearly overloading from the sheer amount of information around him. 

Argon’s area was small, and its games comprised mainly of innocent programs or the occasional criminal pulled from the streets. There, the crowd had energy, but it was nothing compared to the mania of Tron City--to that of the Grid’s capital. 

Beside him, Paige shifted, her green circuits standing out against the sea of orange and blue. Her expression twisted with distaste, stretching the new scar which ran from her right eyebrow down her cheek. As the crowd pressed even closer against her, the frown deepened. 

“Beck,” she spat, dark eyes coming up to meet his, “I really hope you know what you’re doing, but I doubt that he’ll be he--”

In front of them, a crazed, blue-circuited female program stumbled backwards, nearly landing on top of them. Snarling, Paige roughly shoved her back. The program gave her a scathing look before resuming her noise making. 

“Look,” Beck said softly, retreating closer to Paige, “I know you hate this…I do too, but I have to know.”

He looked out over the massive area, taking in the slowly-rotating score banner, the blank overhead viewscreen, and transparent gaming grid. 

It was sickening. All of it. 

A cry, already glitching in death and grotesquely magnified over the loudspeakers, filled the air. 

_‘Combatant number four--deresolution,’_ The cool voice announced. 

The noise from the crowd swelled as the gaming grid morphed, changing to accommodate the five remaining fighters. _Victims._

Paige’s hand rested on his shoulder, “I know he meant so much to you Beck, but you need to understand. He’s been gone for almost a full cycle.”

The round began. Almost immediately one of the combatants slipped and caught a disk in the arm. Reddish pixels poured from the wound and her muted, digital howl echoed distantly against the chorus of jeers from the crowd. 

Beck shook his head. “I can’t accept that. He was the face of the rebellion, my mentor, and my _friend_. I can’t give up on him now.”

He looked down at himself. Without the white armor of Tron, he felt naked. Exposed. But to wear it in the capital… 

In the beginning, many cycles ago, a part of Beck had resented the burden of his alter-ego. He’d held the title of “the Renegade” reluctantly and with little understanding of what it meant--or would soon mean to the programs of Argon. 

Now, he could only remember that time with longing. He _desperately_ wanted to return to those days…To turn back time and live once more in ignorance, free of the burdens of war.

Argon was in ruins, its programs scattered and wandering the Outlands, derezzed, or living as refugees. They had been the collateral damage, the fallout of the chaos of his own creation. 

Cycles ago, even when it had all seemed to be falling apart, when the world appeared to have united against the revolution, Tron had been there. Stoic, grumpy Tron, whose strength had brought the revolution back from the verge of collapse and led them to the first large-scale victory against the occupation. 

Another horrible scream came from the loudspeakers and the crowd cheered. 

Only one program remained, standing atop a puddle of red and blue cubes. Male, white-circuited, and shaking, he stared up at the crowd. Then his helmet retracted, revealing dark hair and pearly-white skin. The program’s expression was clearly visible on the enhanced viewscreen near the top of the arena. It was of pure terror. 

Paige whispered, “no.”

Beck looked at her quizzically but was distracted as a low rumble filled the air. Orange light bathed the crowd as red-toned fireworks burst from the crown of the stadium. 

And then the crowd was on their feet, jumping and screaming as loudly as their vocal processors would allow, hailing the orange-lined ship which descended from above. 

Page gripped Beck’s arm tightly. 

“Users, save us,” he whispered. 

Clu’s Command ship, arrow-shaped and illuminated for show, came to hover off to their right. At its nose, the opaque paneling cleared, revealing the tall, robed figure--Clu himself. 

Beck’s fists clenched. The last time he’d seen the System Administrator, many good programs had lost their lives. 

Argon had lost many that day… and in the following siege. 

He thought of Link and Mara, programs that had gone from coworker and friend, to family. And then they’d been stripped away, reduced to mere memory by the same forces that had taken Bodhi’s life.

Now, somewhere in the Outlands and on the run, Zed was in charge of their remaining forces. Hardened by grief, he was the glue which held the remnants of Argon together. He was the revolution while Beck remained their soldier. 

After all, many blamed the Renegade for all the pain and death. He did his best, but found isolation preferable to the judgment of the survivors.

But that was recent. 

Before then, in the midst of it all, they’d lost their hero. The people had looked up to Beck because of Tron. When Tron vanished, however… 

“Beck?” Paige’s voice cut in on his thoughts. 

Beck dropped the hand that had slowly crept up to his disk and let out a breath, feeling exhausted down to the core. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her. 

She looked at him, understanding in her eyes. “Don’t be.”

_‘Initiate final round.’_ The announcement was greeted with yet another roar of approval, _‘Combatant number six versus Rinzler.’_

The gaming grid was rising, folding in on itself before expanding outwards. In its midst, the remaining program seemed to panic, eyes wide as he took in the changing environment. 

Finally, the high walls of the gaming grid bubbled upwards before parting to create a small opening near the Command ship. 

Beck froze, “what?” 

Paige’s brow furrowed, the broken pixelated scar twisting. “Since when have they announced combatants by name…” 

Her question was answered--in part--when a dark shape detached itself from the shadows by Clu’s side. 

The System Administrator nodded, his face breaking into a grin visible even where Beck stood. 

One of the transparent panels on the Command ship’s bridge retracted and the program vaulted through. For a moment, time seemed to stop as the program twisted through the air. 

Beck’s eyes narrowed. 

The dark figure was tall and broad, with a distinctly bullet-shaped helmet-- 

Then the program tucked into a roll, ignoring the entrance-point to the gaming grid and landing its glassy roof. 

The crowd went wild. In front of Beck and Paige, the rowdy female program gave a new cry. 

_“Rin-zler!”_

Then the entire stadium was alive with the cheer--with the name. 

Rinzler rose to his feet, drawing himself up and spreading his arms wide, inviting the crowd. Beck noted how few circuits the program had, and the distant pattern… 

Beck’s core spun as a terrible feeling entered his mind. Who was this program? And to have Clu introduce him like this--

“I don’t like it,” Paige looked at him with concern, “I don’t like it at all. There were rumors of a new warrior in the occupation… this has to be it. But why would Clu introduce a program like this unless…” 

“I can’t think like that,” Beck watched Rinzler flip backwards into the gaming enclosure. “We’d be done for if it's him--if Clu got to him.” 

The white-circuited program backed up fast, pressing against the far wall of the gaming grid as Rinzler advanced. 

“No--please,” the program’s plea was only met with silence from his opponent. “Please…” 

Finally frightened into action, the program hurled his disk at the Rinzler who didn’t even twitch as it whizzed by. 

Beck watched with bated breath as Rinzler stalked across the gaming grid, not even moving an inch when the other program retrieved his disk and threw it once more. 

Then, Beck’s attention was abruptly pulled away from the fight and to the large viewscreen. A close-up of Rinzler had appeared there, a far more detailed image of the warrior’s upper half. 

Silence fell in the arena as the crowd collectively held their breath. 

An orange light appeared at the base of the program’s throat, contrasting with the darkness of his suit. One by one, the circuits activated… 

The sound of the arena seemed to fade away as Beck took in the signature tetromino. 

Beck closed his eyes even as Paige squeezed his arm. Grief swamped his core, threatening to choke him. 

He’d been searching for _so long_ , secretly hoping to find his hero again. Maybe Tron could’ve found the Creator on his mission--or even abandoned them to create a new rebel cell. 

But this… 

Next thing he knew, the crowd was screaming again. He opened his eyes to see Rinzler--no, _Tron_ \--draw two disks and effortlessly knock the white-circuited program’s disk from the air throwing the other hard enough to leave it buried in the transparent wall beside the program’s ear. 

Launching forwards, Tron came up close to the program and dug a disk beneath his throat, simultaneously tearing away the armor covering the program’s shoulder. A glowing, white mark stood out against pale skin. 

The hexagonal mark of an ISO, the lost race which the System Monitor had dedicated his life to protecting. 

Booing filled the crowd as they called for deresolution. 

  
  


Beck closed his eyes again as the ISO’s screams filled the arena. It was too much. 

They’d lost. 

The revolution… 

Head bowed, he turned away from the fight and reached for Paige’s hand. 

It wasn’t just the tetromino, or the twin disks that had confirmed his worst fear, but the stance and confidence--the posture. 

It was Tron, there was no question. 

Paige squeezed his hand. “Beck, I’m so sorry…” Her voice trailed off. 

He shook his head. “Let’s go. We have a revolution to fight… with what time we have left.” 

The two of them exited the arena, the cheering of the crowd still echoing loudly in their ears. 

He wouldn’t tell Zed and the others yet. The news would crush them. And he couldn’t afford the revolution to die now, even if its days were already numbered. 

Beck had to be the Tron that they needed--that the _Revolution_ needed… 

Because it was only a matter of time until their true hero returned. 

And ended the very revolution that he’d started. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> You can find me on Tumblr [here.](https://lazarusii.tumblr.com/)  
> All comments, critiques, and kudos are most appreciated <3
> 
> Have an amazing rest of your day (and remember)--Tron lives!


End file.
